Solon had been asked to read scripture and offer a prayer. Standing behind the lectern which was sitting on a dark red rug on the smooth fresh soil he read from Romans: "Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?
As it is written, 'For thy sake we killed all the day long; we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter.' Nay, in all things we are more than conquerors, through Him that loved us.
For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present nor things to come.
Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." Solon looked out on the faces of the people as he ended the holy words. Some were prosperous looking, well fed and well dressed. Others appeared less so - plain suits and dresses. All had their best on for the event and the children were well scrubbed and rosy-cheeked. They smiled in affirmation of his choice of words, the foundation of their Universalist faith.
He said after a moment of surveying the outdoor congregation, "Let us pray. Mother and Father God into Thy Grace we have been called. May our efforts in sharing your gospel of love be untiring and our mission blessed. Guide us by Thy Spirit in reforming the nation and ministering through You, Thy abundant, saving Grace. Amen." Retrieving his old beaten Bible, he took one of the several chairs that held the officiants.
Lou's attention had been lovingly fixed on her husband of twenty-five years. She thought how she had not really seen her husband in the pulpit that often during all that time. His preaching was across several states not too often at home. He quoted Jesus about "a prophet in his own home" when they had talked about that. She had responsibilities on the farm and he had carried out his work away from home, alone. Solon was not truly handsome, rather more intense, dignified, with an expressive full face that was quick to smile as well as frown. His dark hair had grayed and thinned. The moustache, which had been on his face for over forty years, was full and around the corners of his mouth, it was near silver-white. His carriage was comfortably erect and his good suit fit him well. Joe had taken over dressing him, or at least getting his clothes to fit better since he started selling fine men's clothing. His old-fashioned boiled banded white shirts Solon protected from Joe's fashion influence. The father told the son it was right for his calling, his business. Solon was a man - an image - in black, white and silver gray. Lou realized after his brief part of the service how he fit his life and how life fit him. She had not thought of that before and it made her feel good. She always knew she loved him but now she realized how profoundly she admired him.